About That Fling (30 page)

“How did it happen?” Jenna asked, braking at a red light she wished she could run right through.

“They don’t know. The police are still at the house trying to sort through the details.” She fell silent, and for a moment, Jenna thought that’s all she intended to offer. Jenna nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Mia cleared her throat. “Apparently she had a handgun in her purse. She was arguing with him about something and dropped it on the floor, and somehow—”

She broke off sobbing, her face crumpling into a mess of tears and terror. Jenna reached over and touched her arm. “Mia, I’m so sorry. For everything. I don’t even know where to begin—”

“Don’t,” Mia whispered. “Not now. I just want to get to the hospital and see Mark. That’s what matters right now.”

Jenna nodded, withdrawing her hand. She took a sharp right turn onto the road leading to Belmont, thankful at least that the ambulance had brought Mark to this hospital. She knew the exact location of the ER, the spot in back where she was sure to find parking. “Do you want me to drop you in front or come in with you?”

Mia seemed to hesitate. “Come in with me.”

Jenna nodded, not sure whether to take it as a positive sign or a practical one. Did it matter at this point? Mark had been shot. Her best friend’s husband—for better or worse, even if they did happen to be experiencing the latter right now. Jesus, what was Mia feeling?

She turned into the parking lot, trying not to picture the look on Mia’s face the moment she’d realized Jenna’s betrayal. The moment Jenna had stood and fled, leaving her behind without answers or explanations.

She looked at Mia now and her gut twisted. The only thing worse than seeing this much pain on her best friend’s face was knowing she was responsible for some of it.

“Here,” Jenna said, pulling into a spot tucked off to the side near the ER entrance. Mia had the car door open before Jenna had even pulled her keys out of the ignition, and she was halfway to the hospital door by the time Jenna caught up with her. “Careful, Mia,” Jenna cautioned, reaching for her elbow. “The ground gets slick here.”

“I know, I’m okay,” Mia said, and hurried ahead, one hand on her belly.

The automatic doors whooshed open, and they found themselves blinking in the brightly lit lobby of the ER. A nurse rushed over with a wheelchair. “Ma’am? Let’s get you to the birthing center right away.”

“No,” Mia said, throwing her arm out as though stopping the nurse from forcibly taking her. “I’m not in labor. I’m here to see my husband. Mark Dawson? He’s been shot. I’m Mia—Amelia Dawson. Please, someone tell me what’s happening.”

The nurse’s expression changed from all business to sympathy, and Jenna tried not to think the worst.

“Come with me,” the nurse said, shoving the wheelchair aside. She looked at Jenna. “Are you a relative?”

“No, I—”

“Family only, you wait here.” She pointed to a hard plastic chair in the waiting area, and Jenna sat automatically, too terrified to argue. She watched as the nurse led Mia away, watched the slump of her friend’s shoulders and the slow, awkward gait of her movement.

The doors leading outside whooshed open again, and Gertie rushed in with Adam on her heels. Gert looked around, her white hair frizzy and wild as she scanned the waiting area. Spotting Jenna, she hustled over with her handbag banging against her hip.

“What did they say?” Gertie demanded. “How’s Mark?”

“I don’t know. They whisked Mia away before I could ask anything. I’m not even sure if he’s alive or—”

“Don’t say that,” Gertie said, dropping into a chair beside her. “Do we know where the bullet hit?”

Jenna shook her head as Adam dropped silently into the chair to her left. “I don’t know anything. Just that the gun was in Ellen’s purse when it went off. They think it was an accident, but no one knows at this point.”

“Thank God Katie wasn’t there,” Gertie said. “That’s the first thing Mia said when the police called. I guess the roof repair was taking longer than expected, so Ellen let Katie have one last sleepover at a friend’s house before school starts. She didn’t see her daddy get shot.”

Jenna nodded, grateful at least for that. She looked at Adam. He still hadn’t said a word, and his face was stony and pale. She started to reach out and touch his hand, then stopped herself. She kept her hands in her lap, fingers clenched in a sweaty knot.

“Adam? You okay?”

“Yeah.” He raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I just can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now.”

He stopped, and Jenna nodded. “I know. I keep seeing the look on her face.”

All three of them fell silent, waiting. In the background, machinery beeped and medical staff called out to each other about detox and defibrillators and dinner breaks. The smell of disinfectant floated around them like an angry cloud, mixing with the scent of spilled coffee near a grimy-looking coffee pot on a table beside Adam. In the corner, a woman sat with red-rimmed eyes, knitting something that looked like a scarf.

Gertie reached out and touched Jenna’s knee. “It isn’t your fault.”

“What?”

“I know you. And I know you’re sitting there thinking about how you could have done something different to change this. Maybe if you’d called Mark and told him how upset Mia was about the class, or maybe if you’d taken a right turn instead of a left one on the way to the restaurant. There’s nothing you could have done differently, Jenna.”

She felt her eyes filling with tears, and she blinked them back. “I could have done a lot of things differently. I could have avoided lying to my best friend. Betraying her. Hurting her on what’s obviously turning out to be one of the worst days of her life.”

Gertie shook her head. “We all make mistakes, sweetie. You, me, Mark, Mia, Adam. We’re all just bumping around together on this planet, trying to do the best we can for ourselves and each other. But there’s only so much we can control.”

She felt Adam stir beside her, and turned to look at him. His face was creased in shadows, and he looked ten years older than he had on their car ride to Seattle. Jesus, had it only been three days?

Adam looked up, seeming to feel her eyes on him. He stared at her for a moment, then reached over and took her hand. She thought about pulling back. About telling him this was the last thing in the world they should be doing right now.

But his palm was warm and solid, and she felt her lungs expand, then contract and expand again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a deep breath, so she kept her hand in his, savoring the connection and the oxygen. What was it about him that made her breathe easier, feel safe and secure and calm even while everything around them was spinning?

A nurse stepped through a set of double doors from the ER and looked around. Her eyes landed on Jenna, and she walked toward them with purpose, her expression unreadable.

“Ms. McArthur?”

“Yes,” Jenna said, letting go of Adam’s hand as she stood up.

“Mia Dawson asked me to come find you.”

“How’s Mark? Can I see him? Can I see Mia or—”

“I’m sorry, Ms. McArthur. You’re not allowed back there. Family only.”

“But what’s Mark’s condition?”

“As you know, HIPAA allows us to give a one-word condition report.”

Jenna froze, recognizing the stilted language she’d used so many times with nosy journalists and visitors. “I—yes, I understand.”

“Mr. Dawson is in fair condition.”

Jenna nodded, her brain running through the different terms. “Fair” was better than “serious” or “critical,” but it wasn’t “good.” It wasn’t “treated and released.”

And it wasn’t the information Jenna would get if Mia had given her permission to share more. Mia knew hospital rules. All she had to do was sign the form, give the okay to release more detail and let them know what was happening.

Jenna sat down, feeling numb. Adam reached for her hand again. “She probably just didn’t have time.”

Jenna turned to look at him, barely recognizing his features. “What?”

“To sign the HIPAA forms. That’s what you’re thinking, right? She’s deliberately shutting you out?”

“I don’t—”

“We’ll wait here,” Gertie said, reaching out to take Jenna’s other hand. “Until there’s more news, we’ll be right here.”

The nurse nodded. “Okay then. If I’m able to tell you more, I will.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said.

The nurse vanished the same way she’d come, the double doors making an impersonal
swoosh
as she passed. For a moment, none of them spoke. They sat connected by palms and fingers and breath and bone.

“So we wait,” Adam said, the first to break the silence.

“I guess so,” Jenna said, and squeezed his hand so tightly it hurt.

Adam wasn’t sure who fell asleep first. He woke sometime around seven in the morning, his back stiff and his legs asleep. Jenna’s hand was limp in his, and her head lay heavy on his shoulder.

He watched her for a moment, studying the rise and fall of her chest and the way her hair fell over his arm. She was beautiful, even now with tear tracks smudging her cheeks and her hair matted to the side of her face.

She’d taken Gertie home sometime after midnight, insisting someone who’d broken a hip in the last year needed a good night’s sleep in a bed instead of a hard plastic chair. Gertie had tried to argue, but Adam had seen the relief in her eyes, the way she winced as she stretched out her sore leg.

Aside from that short run home, Jenna hadn’t left her seat all night. Neither had Adam, and his body ached from it.

His heart ached for other reasons.

Trying not to disturb Jenna, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

No messages.

What had he expected, really? A text from Mia saying,
Just wanted you to know the guy I left you for is in good condition
.

Still, it would have been nice to hear something. He’d stirred briefly around 3:00 a.m. when there’d been a shift change in the nursing staff, but no one had come to talk to them. Did Mia know they were all out here waiting? Was Mark still in the ER, or had he been moved to surgery?

Adam lingered on that thought for a moment. In the three years since the divorce, he’d had plenty of unkind thoughts about Mark. What kind of man takes another man’s wife? What kind of man swoops in when a relationship is in trouble, weaseling his way into the cracks of a broken marriage?

A man with faults. An imperfect man. A man who makes mistakes.

A man not unlike himself.

Part of him would always hate Mark. But right then, he said a small prayer the guy would pull through.

He felt Jenna stir and shoved his phone back in his pocket. She sat up, blinking in the harsh light of the fluorescent bulbs above. She turned to look at him, her eyes still blurry with sleep. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven.”

“No word?”

“Nothing. Check your phone though, maybe she messaged you.”

Jenna nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears as she bent down to rummage through her purse. She pulled out her phone and sat up, frowning at the screen. He watched her, trying to gauge her expression.

“Anything from Mia?”

“No.” Jenna slid a finger across the screen, her frown deepening. “But there’s an e-mail from Kendall Freemont in Human Resources.”

“This early? What does it say?”

He watched her eyes move as she scanned the words. The color drained slowly from her face, and Adam felt his gut clench. “What is it?” he asked again.

“She’s asking me to report to her office at eight-thirty this morning,” Jenna said, moving her finger on the screen to scroll down. “She says it’s an urgent meeting regarding Belmont Health System’s employee fraternization policy.”

A chill snaked down his spine, and Adam forced himself to stay calm. “Is there anything else?”

Jenna nodded, her eyes wide and fearful as they met his. “Yes,” she said. “It’s addressed to both of us.”

C
hapte
r
S
ixteen

Jenna straightened her skirt, then straightened her spine and took a deep breath. She was five minutes early, but that was better than being on time or late, wasn’t it?

She had no idea. She’d rushed home to shower, donning her best power suit and high heels that pinched her toes. That wasn’t a bad thing. A little discomfort would keep her tough, make her strong enough to do what she had to do.

Her hand was shaking as she reached for the door of the conference room next to Kendall’s office. She willed herself not to cry.

You’re the Chief Relations Officer for a major medical center, she told herself. You worked hard to get here. You can handle this.

She took another deep breath and pushed the door open. Her eyes fell first on Kendall, who was seated primly with her hands folded on the desk in front of her. She wore a black jacket and cat-eye glasses that had slipped a little down her nose. Across from her was Adam, looking clean-shaven and stiff in a dark gray suit.

Beside him sat Mia.

She wore a dark blue maternity dress with her red hair pulled back in a severe chignon. She wasn’t smiling.

“Mia,” Jenna gasped. “What are you—how’s Mark?”

Mia rested one hand on her belly and looked up. Her eyes were red, her expression unreadable. “He’s going to make it,” she said, her voice soft and sandpapery. “The bullet missed a major artery in his leg. He’ll need a few months of physical therapy, but it could have been a lot worse.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jenna felt the tears starting, and willed herself not to let them fall. She’d been here less than ten seconds and she was already crying. Jesus, she’d never make it at this rate.

“Thank you for joining us,” Kendall said, nodding from behind her desk. “Could you please close the door, Jenna?”

“Of course.”

She pushed it shut, then turned to face the room. An empty chair sat between Adam and Mia, and she started toward it. Then she stopped. Clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking, she forced herself to stand straight and tall.

“There’s something I need to say.”

Kendall glanced at Mia, then at Adam. “I’m not really sure it’s necessary for you to—”

“No, I need to say it. In front of everyone—Mia, Adam, you.” She swallowed, surprised to discover her voice was steadier than she expected it to be. She’d spent her whole career perfecting the art of polished presentation, but nothing inside her felt polished anymore. She felt raw and empty and completely unraveled. She took a steadying breath and lifted her chin.

“I’m sorry.” She paused, feeling oddly fortified by that word, so she said it again. “I’m really very sorry. I know I’ve been cavalier with the company’s policy on employee fraternization, and I know I’ve conducted myself in a manner unbecoming to an executive of this organization. I understand if you need to penalize me for it, and I accept the consequences of my actions. But that’s not what I’m most sorry for.”

She took another breath and looked at Mia, willing herself not to fall apart. Not until everything was out on the table. “I’m sorry for any pain I caused you, either by dating your ex-husband, or by hiding that from you. I should have had more faith in the strength of our friendship and in your strength as a person.”

Mia’s eyes held hers, but they’d started to shimmer. It might have been a trick of light, but Jenna didn’t think so. Behind the desk, Kendall opened her mouth to speak, but Jenna held up a hand.

“I’m not done. Please, just let me finish. Mia, I should have trusted you to know better than almost anyone that people can’t always help who they fall in love with. They can’t always control where it happens or whether it’s an inconvenient time or an inconvenient person. But that doesn’t make the love any less valuable or sacred or real.” She cleared her throat, fighting the thickness that made her voice tight and shaky. She stole a glimpse at Adam, steeling herself to say what she needed.

“And the fact of the matter is that I love Adam,” she said. “I love him for the man he is now, and I love him for the man he was when he belonged to you. I love him for who he’ll become tomorrow, which may be a new variation of the same man. But it’s one I’m prepared to appreciate no matter what.”

It was getting harder to get the words out, and she was having a tough time seeing through the tears pooling in her eyes, but she commanded herself to turn and look at him. The force of his gaze locking with hers nearly sent her reeling backward, but it also gave her a fresh surge of power. She took another deep breath.

“Adam, I love you. In case I didn’t make that clear just now.”

He nodded. “I think I got it.” He offered a small smile. “I love you, too.”

“I’m going to screw up. A lot. I won’t always handle things as well as I should, and sometimes I’ll use the wrong words or the wrong coping mechanism or the wrong fork at dinner. But my heart’s in the right place.” She unclasped her hands. “It’s with you.”

He stood up, pushing the empty chair aside. Jenna didn’t need any further encouragement. She stepped into his embrace and felt his arms wrap around her, felt herself sink into his heat and strength and safety. She closed her eyes, hoping like hell this wouldn’t mean the end of her career or the end of her friendship.

Hoping, maybe, it could be the beginning of something new.

Behind them, Mia cleared her throat. “I feel like I’m supposed to applaud or something.”

Jenna drew back, pushing her hair behind her ears. She smoothed her skirt and looked at Mia. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop with the sorry,” Mia said, shifting a little in her chair. “That shit gets old in a hurry. Just ask Adam, he’ll tell you.”

“Yep.” Adam nodded and sat back down. “For once, I’ll have to agree with my ex-wife.”

“I’m making a note of that,” Mia said, and picked up a stack of papers on the desk. “So the real reason I asked everyone to meet this morning was that I’m requesting a change to some corporate policy. Namely, the anti-fraternization rule.”

Jenna blinked. “You requested a rule change?”

“I was actually planning to be circumspect about the reason for the request.” She glanced at Kendall, then back at Jenna. “You kinda fucked that up just now with your little speech. Congratulations, by the way. And you’re forgiven. Not that you need my forgiveness or my blessing.”

Jenna blinked, too stunned to know how to reply. “I need both, actually.”

“Then you’ve got it. Along with my well wishes for dealing with this bastard. You’re going to need it.” She smiled for real then, and Adam smiled, too, a private joke between them that somehow didn’t leave Jenna feeling left out.

“So,” Mia said. “The fraternization rule is bogus, and I’d like to suggest a revision, but since we’ve already got mountains of more important corporate policy to negotiate with the bargaining team, it seemed silly to bring this to the table. I thought this might be better handled within our core group. A group that already dealt with a personnel matter along the same lines just last week.”

Kendall frowned, her cheeks reddening. “How did you know about—”

“Oh, please,” Mia said, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone knows Brett Lombard has been mailing photos of his junk to Susan Schrader for months. It’s the worst kept relationship secret in the hospital.”

Adam snorted and glanced at Jenna. “There’s an honor I’m glad we didn’t achieve.”

“Nope, you were actually pretty damn good at hiding yours,” Mia said, “which is the reason I hope we can make this policy change quietly and with as little fanfare as possible.”

Kendall steepled her hands on the desk, and looked down at some papers in front of her. “I’ve reviewed the amendments you’ve suggested, Mia. I appreciate that you’ve taken into consideration our need to address supervisory relationships and situations where a legal conflict of interest might exist, but what you’ve spelled out here seems like a good starting point.”

“Thank you,” Mia said. “My stepfather is an attorney. I was on the phone with him at four o’clock this morning quizzing him about anti-harassment regulations and corporate law. It beat the hell out of thinking about gunshot wounds.”

“I can imagine,” Jenna said, still too stunned to come up with anything smarter. “I don’t understand. Mia, you have every right to hate me right now.”

“I choose not to exercise that right. Hating someone is kind of a pain in the ass, when you get right down to it.”

Adam cocked his head to the side. “You know, all this agreeing with you is starting to freak me out a little.”

“Don’t get too smug about it, ex-husband of mine. There’s actually another ex who gets the credit here.”

Jenna winced. “Sean? God, I need to apologize to him.”

“You do, and you will, because you’re a good person,” Mia said. “But I wasn’t talking about Sean. I’m talking about Ellen.”

“Ellen?” Jenna blinked. “Mark’s ex-wife?”

Mia nodded and pressed a hand into her lower back, wincing a little as she rearranged herself on the hard plastic chair. “She brought Katie to the hospital in the middle of the night to see her father. The shooting was an accident. The cops said so, and Mark agreed. Ellen dropped her purse on the floor and forgot the gun was in there and the whole thing was just one of those stupid moments you watch happening in slow motion and wish like hell you could hit rewind and do it all differently.” Mia shrugged. “I guess I can relate.”

Jenna nodded, feeling the tears prick the backs of her eyes again. “Me, too.”

“Anyway, Ellen and I got to talking,” Mia said. “About regrets and apologies and hate and love and everything in between. We might have swapped recipes for banana bread—the details are a little hazy. But my point is that we connected. For the first time in three years, we saw each other as human beings instead of ‘that bitch.
’
”

“Wow,” Jenna said, reeling too hard to come up with anything beyond a single syllable.

Beside her Adam was shaking his head. “So you thanked her for shooting your husband, and she thanked you for stealing him, and then you hugged and made up?”

Mia choked out a laugh. “Hardly. But we don’t hate each other anymore. That’s progress. I’ve gotta say—it’s the most free I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Forgiveness will do that,” Adam murmured.

Mia smiled. “And once more, the exes agree on something.”

Behind her desk, Kendall cleared her throat. “I hate to rain on this lovely parade, but I believe there’s still an issue on the table.”

Jenna turned to face her and gave a grim nod. “Right. Uh—even if the fraternization rule changes, I assume there will be a penalty for my failure to follow an existing rule?”

Kendall opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, Mia interrupted.

“The lawyer in the room can correct me if I’m wrong here, but if a company fails to enforce a rule with one employee and then punishes another employee for a similar violation, wouldn’t that second employee have a valid case for legal recourse?”

Adam blinked. “You’re referring to Brett and Susan again?”

“Exactly.”

“Legally, yes. That second employee would have a case.”

“See?” Mia beamed at Kendall. “Looks like I got something from my years of marriage to a workaholic attorney.”

Kendall pressed her lips together. “Perhaps it would be best if we all stop talking about penalties and litigiousness and focus on moving forward in a positive fashion.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Mia smiled and turned back to Adam and Jenna. “So the policy I’m suggesting is commonly known as a ‘Love Contract.’ If a couple employed in the same workplace initiates a consensual relationship, they’ll be provided with documentation on the company’s sexual harassment policy. They’ll also be briefed on regulations concerning public displays of affection and retaliation in the event of a terminated relationship. After all the paper shuffling, they’ll get a contract to sign indicating they’re aware of the rules and promise to abide by them.”

Adam leaned forward, adjusting his tie. “I assume they’ll have the right to consult with an attorney before signing?”

“Of course,” Kendall said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and lifted her chin. “The company I worked for prior to Belmont had an informed consent policy similar to this one. Obviously, this sort of policy requires some very specific language about job performance expectations and the impact of a relationship on the work environment, but I’ve seen similar systems work quite nicely in a corporate setting.”

“Okay then,” Mia said, turning back to Adam. “You’re a lawyer, and you obviously have a vested interest in creating a positive work environment at Belmont. Do you want to be involved in crafting the new policy?”

He nodded, turning to look at Jenna. She felt a flash of heat arc through her as his eyes held hers.

“I do,” he murmured.

“And Jenna,” Mia said shifting again in her chair. “Would you be comfortable with this sort of clause in the company’s policy? Hypothetically speaking, of course, if Adam were to remain attached to Belmont, do you think you’d be willing to sign a document like this?”

Jenna slid her eyes from Adam’s to her best friend’s and back again to his. She nodded. “I do.”